


That’s Showbiz, Baby

by escspace



Category: Noblesse (Manhwa)
Genre: Blood Drinking, F/M, Las Vegas, M/M, Masturbation, Modern Ragar AU, Smut, hermaphrodite
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2020-07-10
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:42:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25177105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/escspace/pseuds/escspace
Summary: Frankenstein and Rai fuck in their Vegas hotel room. Ragar watches.
Relationships: Cadis Etrama di Raizel/Frankenstein (Noblesse), Frankenstein (Noblesse)/Ragar Kertia, Frankenstein/Ragar Kertia/Cadis Etrama Di Raizel, Ragar Kertia/Cadis Etrama di Raizel
Comments: 2
Kudos: 49





	That’s Showbiz, Baby

The air of the moody maroon bathed lounge is dry and smoky. Soothing sounds of atmospheric jazz music keep him company as Ragar finishes up his lonesome drink. Absently, he looks around, taking in details that will soon be forgotten: a man’s grinning face, the glint of diamond earrings, the clink of glasses. Behind him, beyond the stucco divider, bright lights and playful pings beckon guests towards the casino, machines waiting to feed on wallets and green notes, waiting to swallow up people’s lives whole. It is a game Ragar knows not to play. Time passes, and he glances at the distant clock again. The message he had sent to Frankenstein’s phone remains unanswered. Finally, he places his glass of liquor down and stands from the shiny red couch. Ragar cuts through the casino and passes by various restaurants as he heads towards the elevator that will take him to the top floor of the hotel.

His footfalls are silent on the dark, tightly woven carpet. Once he reaches their room, he pulls out his key card. A green light winks at him and the lock clicks open. He steps inside.

_”Oh...”_

Ragar stills, then quickly closes the door behind him, only a little flustered by the unexpected sight of Frankenstein blindfolded and being pressed into the sheets by his master. Not wishing to be a nuisance, he silently takes a seat on the overstuffed chair by the window to wait for his companions to conclude their activities.

Raizel gives him a cursory glance of acknowledgment before returning his attention completely to Frankenstein, who sighs and trembles affectionately beneath him.

Frankenstein moans, tilting his head back as his fingers flutter over Raizel’s back, careful to not rake his nails across his master’s fine skin. “Master...” He takes in a deep, startled breath and reaches down towards his cock pressed between them, only for his wrist to be pinned down onto the bed.

“Not yet,” Raizel tells him. He crushes their mouths together. They kiss, impassioned, consuming.

Ragar watches them, attention sharp.

Then, Raizel's lips trail down. He opens his delicate mouth and reveals thin, long fangs. They press against and then press into Frankenstein's neck. Bright blood wells from the wound and trickles into Raizel's mouth.

Ragar blinks then looks away. He tugs at his mask, catching his suddenly embarrassed reflection on the glass of the window against the night sky falling over the rest of Las Vegas. Crossing his legs, Ragar feels a familiar and telling ache stir in his core and gives a reserved glance back at the bed.

Raizel has pulled away and he looks at Ragar as well. His lips are smeared with the evidence of their intimacy, one that is beyond compare, one that Ragar can only dream of. Ragar has been to many places and done many things, but he wonders about what he has yet to experience. He wonders what it must feel like to bite, to drink.

Knowingly, Raizel turns backs to Frankenstein, pulls him up and arches him back. Again, he sinks his fangs deeply into him, and Frankenstein jolts. He whimpers against his master, abundant hair gracefully falling back from the tilt of his head.

"Yes, Master..." Frankenstein rasps. He wraps his legs around Raizel tighter and presses in closer. His hips rut against him.

Ragar swallows. He gazes on with hypnotized keeness. Then, smoothly, his hands trail to his thighs, fingertips light and catching on fabric. They rest for a moment, fingers curled protectively in, as he considers the appropriateness of the situation.

Then his belt and pants are undone, and Ragar reaches for himself. He takes a slow breath and teases his cock with a hand and spreads his legs further apart to allow for his other hand to delicately touch his pussy, nails just grazing along his lips, still somewhat reserved in their motion. Carefully, the pads of his fingers slide across his labia. His eyes are trained on Raizel and Frankenstein as he slips inside of himself. His cock twitches in his hand.

"Master," Frankenstein calls breathlessly, face and chest flushed lovingly red. "Fuck——fuck me harder," are vulgarities Ragar has heard before.

Raizel obliges. He withdraws to roughly flip Frankenstein over, fist tangled in his hair, twisting those sun-colored locks without mercy. He crushes Frankenstein beneath him, realizing the authority he has over him physically.

Frankenstein shudders and cries out in brutal delight. The blindfold does little to hide his agonized pleasure.

Ragar sighs in silence. Wetness covers his hand. He works himself faster, grasp a little tighter around his cock, fingers plunging a little deeper into his pussy that he can feel clench and unclench, aching for something more substantial. He pulls his gaze from his cock and watches as Raizel drives into Frankenstein again and again, all the way to the hilt. Ragar knows the feeling of being fucked well. The fantasy of it makes him shamelessly wet, and he becomes aware of a cold, slick trail that will soon stain the hotel room’s plush chair. He leans back against the cushion as his hips slide forward, heels lifting and toes pressing firmly into the carpet. A quiet moan rumbles in his throat much like a purr.

In familiar desperation, Frankenstein reaches out to grasp the sheets for a minuscule sense of grounding, bunching them together with white-knuckled force. He gasps, mouth wide and loving every moment of domination his master will grant him. He squirms and ruts back whorishly, cock slicked and dripping wet.

Ragar takes all of this in, all of Frankenstein’s vulnerable sounds and frantic movements that he so readily shows Raizel, that Raizel can draw from him with acute ease. Ragar watches this as if nothing is more important, as if nothing else exists to be watched. And, like Frankenstein, he too is loving every moment.

His fingers curl within himself as he relentlessly reaches for the parts within that make him twitch and electrify his spine. pressing and rubbing against himself with fervor bordering on hedonism. Frankenstein groans and Ragar keens in answer. Droplets spot the couch.

Then, Raizel suddenly shifts, pulling Frankenstein back and lifting his thigh with his hand placed on the backside of Frankenstein’s knee. Raizel is buried within him, and Frankenstein's legs are spread wide before Ragar’s captured gaze; he is utterly exposed and extravagantly scandalous. Frankenstein’s cock glints with unsurpassed arousal.

Ragar feels a rush.

Raizel kisses the back of his neck like a delicacy, cradling his Bonded close. His free hand snakes around to grasp at Frankenstein’s cock, elegant fingers knowing and firm. Maddeningly, he strokes him. Startlingly, he peers past Frankenstein and looks straight at Ragar, pinning the other noble in place by sheer presence.

Ragar’s hands still, as if he has come to attention. It is no secret that Sir Raizel’s psychic ability is far greater than Ragar’s own, but he cannot quite discern if the phantom touch he feels is caused by Raizel’s will or by his own mind fixating on how Raizel’s hand moves on Frankenstein. Ragar’s fingers slide on his own cock as he watches Raizel’s on Frankenstein’s, and Ragar can almost fool himself into thinking that it is Raizel’s hand on himself. He can almost believe that he shares in Frankenstein’s pleasure—that they are somehow connected beyond the physical realm. Ragar huffs, face hot.

Frankenstein sighs and moans pleadingly, longingly, voice straining wantonly for his master.

Ragar’s chest flutters and his breath catches when Raizel bites into Frankenstein again, over and over, drawing forth heated blood and heated pleasure. The sight ignites something primal in Ragar’s core.

As his master sinks his fangs lovingly into him, overwhelming Frankenstein with the vast intimacy of their bond, Frankenstein melts against him, shuddering beyond his control as he cums. His cock twitches hard within Raizel’s hand, thoroughly wetting it. Frankenstein can only lean his head back and gasp, thin trails of blood striping his neck and shoulder and down over his chest.

Ragar’s mouth is wordlessly open. His eyes narrow. He gushes onto his hand as he sinks his fingers deep inside. Ragar bites down on his mask between his lips as he squirts onto himself and the seat, white cum dappling his black shirt and clear slick tipping heavily over the edge of the chair. His eyes slip closed as he shudders through his orgasm, the world going quiet and retreating from him. In his mind, he imagines Sir Raizel’s fangs slipping once more into Frankensteins’ flesh in vivid detail, bright blood peeking just under Raizel’s pink lips.

A wet trail connects his fingers when Ragar withdraws from himself, and when he finally opens his eyes, he finds Frankenstein lounging against Raizel and staring at him, eyes bright with amusement. The blindfold rests daintily in Raizel’s hand. Frankenstein sneers. “Did you enjoy the show?” His eyes slip down to Ragar’s flushed cock and glistening pussy.

Ragar gazes down at his wet fingers, pressing them together to feel their slickness—evidence of his shamelessness. “I did,” he admits softly before looking back up at Frankenstein. “Will there be an encore?” he challenges.

Frankenstein’s grin bares teeth. “Sure,” he says.

As Ragar straightens, he again catches his reflection in the window, beyond which the ever luminous city lights blink and beckon. But, the city can wait, Ragar thinks as he joins his companions on bed. “I believe the saying is, ‘The show must go on,’ Frankenstein.”

Frankenstein huffs as he leans back, allowing Ragar on top. “Oh shut up.”


End file.
